


These Hands Stained Red

by pinebox



Series: Murder House Meets Bates Motel [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, Ghosts, M/M, Murder, murder house meets bates motel inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-12-31 17:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinebox/pseuds/pinebox
Summary: Murder House meets Bates Motel.Frank and his mother move into a new house with a dark past and an even darker beginning.





	1. "First You Dream, Then You Die"

**Author's Note:**

> Based after the prologue titled "From Silent Dreams We Never Wake" but some things have changed and are still undecided. Chapter tilted after the first episode of Bates Motel.

Frank sat, on his knees, neck heavy and achy, scrubbing vigorously at the stained carpet. They had tried everything at this point, but the goddamn stain wouldn't come out. Frank's hands were red and sore from the soup, ammonia, bleach, and detergent. He was about ready to cry and whine, but he didn't. He couldn't break down when his mother was in the process of breaking down.

Frank's mother sat with him, rigorously rubbing the carpet. She wept, hyperventilating, her arm never slowing. "Aagh, Frank, why won't it come out?" She stopped the scrubbing and sat back on her heels. The tears started to swell and she went into full panic mode again.

"Mom, Mom, please, it's going to be okay," Frank's voice shook and weak. The small boy was tired, his heart racing and hands shaking. His mother, Linda, only sobbed harder.

"Fra-Frankie, you don't understand," Linda sucked in a breath. "This, this is, this--oh my god." She broke down again, her face buried in the crook of her elbow, hands burning.

"Mom, we--we're gonna be okay," Frank's voice broke. She ignored him. He let himself look away from his mother and take in the room. His mother's mattress was on the floor against the wall, the rest of the room was empty beside the boxes, and the one lamp set up for light laid broken on the ground.

"Mom, I'm gonna--I'll be right back," Frank started, standing up on weak legs. Linda's head shot up and she grabbed Frank's arm.

"No--no don't leave, please don't," she begged. She had a crazed look on her. Her eyes were tired and scared, her loose bangs sticking to her forehead by sweat, and the dried red on her forearms.

"We," Frank panted, exhausted, "I'll be right back, I promise. We--I--"

" _No_ , Frank, you can't!"

"B-but, Mom!" Frank babbled incoherently until, " _Ed!_ " Linda stopped her pleading, a deadpan look on her face with the color drained out.

"God--! Fuck," Linda bolted upright but fell back down from the head-rush. She whined and groaned. "Wha-what am I gonna do?" Frank had never seen his mother look so defeated before.

"Let me take care of it," Frank said. His mom looked so tired and fragile. Frank had to admit, he was scared to death. He was not able to deal with the situation at hand--no one is.

"No, Frank, you can't," Linda groaned. Her brows stern and frown lines visible. "You don't know what you're doing."

Frustration rose inside Frank and he screamed the same at her. Frank felt as if he was ready to pass out. She was right, though. He hadn't a clue on what to do. Frank didn't know where to even start.

"I-I'm sorry, Frankie. You're right, I don't know what I'm doing," Linda said. She looked down into her lap, her shoulders hunched over.

"We can figure it out together," Frank promised, "look, let's worry about the stain later, er, until after we..." Frank trailed on bitting his lip. He outstretched his hands for his mother to grab. She reluctantly held on and pushed herself up.

They walked together, hands held--Linda clinging tight to her son--to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. There, laying stiff on the tiles was Ed. Beside Frank, Linda let out a strangled sob. She quickly gathered herself together and went to step around Ed's still body.

"Where, uh, how do we," she looked up at her son, clueless on how to do what they were going to do. Frank said they should wrap his body in something, a rug or bed sheet. "Okay," Linda muttered and left to find one of their boxes full of blankets.

Frank stood staring at the dead body in his mother's bathroom. It was midnight the last time he checked the clock, and there was a dead human being in his house. Ed's head was wrapped in a sweatshirt, blood soaking through.

Out of the corner of his eye, Linda was back with her arms full of blankets. She dropped them in the tub and sat on the edge. "I was thinking," she said panting, "we wrap him in a comforter or two?" Frank nodded distantly. "Frank? Is that okay? Help me out here," she snapped.

"Uh, it's fine, the comforters are good," Frank nodded.

"I'm-I'm sorry Frank, I just," Linda shook her head with her head held in her hand.

"It's okay Mom," Frank said softly. They began to carefully wrap Ed in the comforters. The wound on his head was still slightly seeping blood. Linda's shirt had dry blood spots.

Rolling a dead body in a blanket was harder than they expected. Ed was heavy, big, and tall. Linda wondered how he didn't survive...The blow to his head was hard enough to produce trauma, but still Linda doubted her strength.

After wrapping Ed, they went back in the bedroom to check on the stain. Frank thought it didn't look too bad actually. There were faint reminisces of the blood on the carpet. The light red spot distinct and evident against the beige carpet. Linda sighed heavily and Frank quickly reassured her.

"It's not that bad, Mom," Frank tried. Linda looked hopeless.

"I don't know how to dispose of a body, Frank," she said, her voice empty and void of emotion. She stared at the carpet stain. Frank proceeded to tell her,  _again_ , that they will figure it out together and it's going to be okay.

The two went back into the bathroom where Ed was. "Okay, um, we--we can--" Frank started but at a loss. He stared down at Ed's covered body, pensive, as if the answer was written on the sheets.

"What about we bury him in the woods?" Linda asked. Frank thought for a moment and shook his head. He said that it was too much work to dig a hole and bury him in it far out in the woods. Not to mention it was risky; anyone could find them digging the grave.

"Oh--oh! The ocean?" Frank shook his head again.

"That's an hour on the highway. State troopers could search our vehicle. And even if we made it, we can't just dump the body from the pier. We'd need a boat and neither of us know how to drive one or  _get_  one fast," Frank explained. Linda looked at him like he was being unnecessarily difficult. "Do you want no one to find the body or not?"

"Why does his body need to be undiscoverable? What about his family, Frank?" Linda's guilt evident.

"Mom," Frank sighed, "they're gonna trace it back to us if he's found. Look, he was a drifter before you met him and nothing's changed. If anyone asks where he's been, we say he left us and no one would question it. No one will ever know he's missing."

Linda looked uncertain. "How do you know all this stuff, Frankie?" Frank restrained from rolling his eyes. He never killed anyone and covered up the crime before. How should he know what to do in this situation? He thought realistically and did it as he went. Frank explained this.

"I-I'm sorry. You're right, again. I didn't expect you to be clueless, but," Linda stopped her train of thought. "So now what are we going to do with his body?" She asked.

Frank watched crime shows, and he's seen movies, but that was all the extent of his knowledge. Hell, Frank saw Breaking Bad, but he wondered where he would get those materials. They didn't have an axe to chop his body up, and Frank was sure he didn't want to do that. "We could...burn the body?" Frank said. How, was the question.

Linda asked him if that would work. He said it could. Linda had more questions. "Where would we do that? The smoke and flames, and  _God_  the smell! It would attract attention. I don't think that would work, Frankie," she said. Frank bit his lip and sat on the edge of the tub. "Why can't we just dump his body somewhere?" She asked again.

"Because Mom, someone will find him and they'll trace it back to us," Frank stressed.

"Wha-I can't burn his body! Frank, please, I'm tired. I want to be done with this!"

"Do you want to get caught?" Frank snapped. If they were to get caught, Frank's mom would be charged with murder and he would be an accessory. It'd be the end of everything. Frank couldn't lose his mom.

Linda looked down at her hands, wringing her fingers together and trying to fight tears. "Mom,  _no_ , it's gonna be okay. You did nothing wrong. It was in self defense. We're  _not_  gonna be punished for his mistakes," Frank said, his voice stern. He took his mother's hands--which were raw and red with dried blood in between her fingernails--in his.

Linda nodded, blinking tears away. "We don't have to drive to the shore. We passed a river on our way here, Frank," she said. Frank didn't know what she was talking about at first. A river? That could work maybe...

"Isn't there cement blocks left from the old owners in the backyard?" Frank asked; Linda nodded and felt her stomach flip. This was it.

Together they went to the side of the house and picked up a cement block each. Frank grabbed some rope from the garage, which was also left. Linda stopped Frank, getting chains out of a compartment in the trunk of the car. "It was Ed's idea," she said.

Linda and Frank struggled carrying Ed's dead weight down the stairs and into the car. The chains and cement blocks were a hassle, but they got them hooked to his body somehow. Finally, Frank draped a cover over him just in case.

Frank's stomach twisted uneasily at the proposed plan. It could go wrong in so many ways, and it served almost the same risks as the ocean idea. What if someone drove past them on the bridge while they dumped Ed? What if the police stopped them and searched their car? What if it didn't work?

Linda drove exactly the speed limit the whole way to the small isolated bridge on the edge of town. Never going five miles over or under the limit. Their hearts were racing, adrenaline pulsing through their veins. Frank thought he could throw up at any moment.

The bridge over the river was quiet during the day and even more silent at dark. Still, the two didn't want to take any chances. Linda parked and popped the trunk. Immediately they got out of the car and stood in front of the back.

The body was heavier with the weights at the feet. Frank lifted the end and Linda lifted the head. Their legs wobbled as they moved the body on top of the railing. Frank adjusted the cement blocks, sighing. Swiftly, Linda looked at both ends of the road looking for any headlights. It was pitch black save for the red glow of Linda's backlights on her car.

It was almost peaceful like this in the dead of the night. Cool relief of the slight breeze from the humidity in the air, the sky littered with stars and a bright full moon, the crisp, fresh smell of trees and green, the sound of crickets chirping and the water rushing softly...

"Ready?" Frank asked. Linda gazed at Ed's covered face. Blood had stained the side at where his wound rest. She kissed her finger tips and pressed them to where she thought his lips were. Alas, Linda nodded and on the count of three, they pushed his body over the edge. They watched his body plunge into the river, water splashing at the impact.

They didn't stay after that. The drive home was silent aside from the sound of the engine and their breathing. When the pair arrived home, relief hadn't set in. Guilt and worry gnawed at Linda's conscious. Frank was scared it wasn't enough, that they were gonna get caught. He had a pit in his stomach of what was to come tomorrow; this couldn't end well for either of them.

Linda didn't sleep that night. She stayed up for hours scrubbing and cleaning the house with every cleaning agent she could. Frank felt exhausted but his body fought sleep.

\------

Frank twitched as he started to drift off to sleep. Something was keeping him from rest. It crawled up his neck, scratched his face, and made his hands grimy with filth. The sensation went up his spine jolting him awake. He swept the covers off his body and ran to the bathroom. Bile rose in his throat and he threw up.

Frank sat back on his heels. He felt clammy and dirty. He kept his palms up and away from him. The lines in his palms were red and his skin lightly rosy.

Images of lifeless, bloody, and mummified corpses flashed through his brain. Its face, its eyes, its brain dead self. The gore and sin of it all.

Frank turned the shower on hot and viciously washed his body of any evidence and sin. He let the water scorch his skin and hope to cleanse it.

After his shower, Frank stripped the sheets off his bed and laid on the bare mattress. He didn't feel clean, but it made his eyes droopy again. The night was almost over as the sky gradually lightened, but it didn't matter for Frank's sleep or conscious.

At the threat of tears, a burning sensation bloomed in the back of Frank's head and crawled over him. The Sandman came and gave Frank his very own concoction of a dose mixed with guilt and horror to riddle his sleep. As the sun beams filtered through his blinds, Frank was out.

\------

The Monster visited Frank for the first time that night. He awoke in a sweat, unable to move. At first glance, from where Frank rested on his mattress, nothing was out of the ordinary. But from the corner of his eye, he saw it. Facing Frank, laid next to him, eyes as red as crimson.

All Frank could see were its eyes wide and unblinking, and what he could make out to be black stringy hair. He squeezed his own eyes shut and froze. Frank's heart raced in his chest and his head ached.

Unable to leap out of bed or even scream, Frank stayed still and kept his eyes closed. Maybe if he went back to sleep, it would go away. Perhaps, Frank is dreaming..., or perhaps, God had sent him to Hell.

Just to be sure, Frank laid there for another hour. Slowly, the panic sided, and he could breathe again. Frank opened his eyes, and immediately leapt off the bed. Nothing was there, though. Of course there wasn't a monster from the  _Grudge_  hiding in Frank's subconscious. That didn't stop him from breaking down and crying.

Frank didn't let himself continue the breakdown; he had to help his mom through hers.


	2. Nice Town You Picked, Linda

The hot August air made Frank's skin stick to the sheets with sweat. He hadn't gotten much sleep that night; it was too warm to sleep with blankets but too uncomfortable to not. Aside from the summer heat, Frank had been having nightmares and sleep paralysis almost every night since the incident. Two weeks had gone by since then, and now it was the first day of Frank's junior year. 

Regardless of the little motivation and near constant pit of nausea and fear in his stomach, Frank got ready. Starting a new school was never exciting or easy, but ever since that night, Frank dreaded every day. Nothing was worth waiting for when he knew any minute his mother and him could be caught for murder. 

Down the street another family moved into the neighborhood. It was a little of a relief to Frank that he wouldn't be alone in being the 'new kid'. Maybe they could even be friends, sharing the commonality of just moving here. 

However, the thought of making a friend made Frank sick. He didn't deserve it. It was selfish of him to befriend the other new guy so he wouldn't be alone. At least that's what Frank thought. 

\------

Frank stepped onto the dirty steps of the school bus, cringing at the hidden germs lying on every surface. He briefly glanced at the faces of other kids sat on the bus and cast his eyes downwards. The kids occupying one to two at a seat stared up at Frank as he walked down the aisle. Arriving at the back of the bus Frank saw a kid with dirty blonde hair and white trimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose sat alone. He--what seemed like a smile--smiled at Frank (or was that just a facial expression similar to that of a shrug?).

Frank took it as a cue to sit down next to him. "Thanks," Frank mumbled. The bus was rolling before he even sat down. 

"I'm Mikey," said the guy with dirty blonde hair. Mikey had on a _Joy Division_ shirt and grey jeans. He could already tell he was taller than Frank from just sitting down. 

"Frank," he replied. Mikey nodded back at him. The teenagers sat in awkward silence for a few moments, listening to the obnoxiously loud chatter around them. 

"You moved down the street, right?" Mikey asked hesitantly. "I moved down the street, too, on Glenwood." 

Frank realized then Mikey was the other new kid. He nodded, smiling. "Where'd you move here from?" 

"California, San Diego specifically," Mikey said. "You?"

"Oh, same state, different city, Newark." Frank chuckled dryly. Fuck he was being awkward. Mikey opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. 

"Well, I--I actually lived here before when I was a kid, but we moved to California and now we're back, so," Mikey mumbled. 

"Oh, cool. What grade are you in?" Frank asked. It'd be really nice to know someone in his grade already. His hopes were shot down quickly, though. 

"I'm a senior this year...you?" Mikey hoped the same for himself. Even though he remembered his old friends from childhood, he doubted they would be friends with him today. 

"Junior," Frank sighed.

"That sucks," Mikey muttered. "Maybe we'll have lunch together." Frank nodded and smiled. The two stopped talking for the rest of the ride to school, looking out at the passing scenery. 

\------

Nothing was worth telling about Frank's first day of school when his mother asked. She forgot to at first until she noticed Frank's gaze. Linda had been in what could be between a daze and panic throughout the whole day. Desperately she tried to forget the whole incident, yet it was all she could think about every hour. 

"It was fine," Frank shrugged, thumbing the straps on his book bag. 

"Oh, please, Frank," Linda smiled weakly, "tell me about your day? I've been cooped up in this house all day. Anything is more exciting than that." She chuckled dryly, cringing at the 'excitement' that's been going on. 

Frank sighed and forced a smile onto his face. "I made a friend." Linda's face lit up at the news. "His name's Mikey and he's new, too."

"That's great, Frankie! I'm so happy for you." She pulled her son in for a hug, holding him and taking in his familiar scent. As Frank's mother, his happiness and safety was all she could hope for. Never could she have imagined for this to happen to them. 

\------

It was an early night for the both of them. Exhausted after dinner, Linda excused herself for bed. Frank, left alone, went to his room. 

Alone in an empty, quiet room, the silence was unnerving. Erie, it caused Frank to feel uneasy like someone, something was going to come running in and hurt him. 

He probably deserved it. 

Or perhaps Frank should stop feeling guilty over it. It wasn't like _he_ was the one who put the lamp to Ed's head. Over and over again.

Frank was only helping his mother like any good son would. Or would a good son call the police, because, surely, his mother was sick and needed help? She'd understand. A good son would call the police because he knew what his mother did was wrong. No matter what the bastard had done. Murder was _never_ the answer. 

What was the right answer anyhow? The law was made by man. Doing onto man what he got coming was only human nature. Biblical, even.

Frank laid on the bed and tried to relax his body. Silence eating away at his flesh and crawling into his ears. No one ever told you what seeing a dead person, who was once alive hours earlier, could do to someone's emotional, mental, and spiritual state. Frank saw God in that blood soaked sweatshirt. 

With the lights still on (because Frank couldn't sleep with them off), he drifted into unconsciousness. The Monster almost seemed like a relief in Frank's dreams, for he knew what was to come. Its eyes and dark shadowy form the only discernible feature to him. The stringy hair in its fave as well, except when it blended into the darkness. 

The Monster was always seen stood over Ed's body. Sometimes crouched beside it, or It and Ed laying on either side of Frank in bed. Ed's cold grey eyes, blood matted in his brown hair. Frank'll never forget those eyes, as they stared into the abyss.

\------  
**(Warning: hinting at sexual assault)**

They had just finished a large box of pizza after unloading the moving truck. The family sat on the floor of what would be the dining room, having ate on paper plates and no table. Everyone's backs and hands were feeling sore from lifting heavy cardboard boxes and furniture. 

"Okay, Frankie, Ed and I are heading to bed," Linda said, standing up with Ed. "Get some rest, sweetheart. Don't worry about cleaning up."

"Okay," Frank murmured and smiled softly. Ed wrapped an arm around his lady and led the way to the bedroom, Linda giggling beside him. 

Knowing that the two were in the mood, Frank grabbed his headphones and settled on the coach. He cranked the volume, listening to _Black Flag_ and opened _Catcher in the Rye_ up from where he last read. 

Frank's escape into Holden Caulfield's world dissipated from his mind when a scream could be heard through his headphones. He ripped his earbuds out and set the book aside and listened for it again. Coming from the only other people in the house were shouting. Frank traipsed his way down the hall where his mother's bedroom was. 

As he got closer, a pit blossomed in Frank's stomach. It wasn't unusual for Linda and Ed to fight, but they seemed to be enjoying each other earlier. The sounds coming from their room, weren't ones commonly heard among couples fighting. 

Whilst his heart sped, Frank froze, unable to make sense of what could be happening behind that door. It only become apparent that Frank should enter when he heard a grunt, glass shattering, and a loud thud. With shaky hands, Frank opened the door and found his mother sat on top of Ed, repeatedly bashing his head with the end of a lamp. 

"Mom?" Frank said weakly, as the air was punched out of his lungs. Linda stopped then and turned around to face her son, still sobbing hysterically. The bedside lamp fell from her hands and landed beside Ed's unmoving body. 

"Oh, Frank, oh God," she said, making a gurgling sound from crying. Linda and Ed were in bed, happily ready to begin sex. Except Ed liked doing things his way, and Linda being completely subordinate to him. 

Linda did something that set Ed off, cascading him into meaningless anger which could be directed at nothing, he pinned her down. The man much larger than Linda in stature and rank, as he made her feel lesser constantly, slapped and threw her around on the bed. 

All that could be said was Linda got the strength to reach over to the bedside lamp on the floor and strike her attacker. He toppled over, his heavy body falling to the floor. She had a few seconds to ponder what to do next but all she could feel was rage. Her choice had been made as she bludgeoned Ed over the head over and over again. Reality only sunk in after Linda was done taking out her anger on the man who hurt her. 

There was a feeling, deep down inside Linda, like she made the right decision. Not an ounce of guilt, save for the mess blood made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second chapter is done! ah the random commas. hopefully it was enjoyable. I have no idea what's next so yippee. let me know you want more by commenting and giving kudos! :)
> 
> \- Paige


	3. What's Wrong With Eddie

Ray Toro was a Belleville police officer for a few years now. He wasn't the youngest on the force but he was one of them. In all his years as an officer, the most intense conflict he came across was a 739--domestic violence in progress. Not to say crimes like murder and rape never happened in their corner of Jersey, but Ray wasn't one who dealt with such crimes. 

Came one morning a staticky voice from his radio, "possible 745, 706, CSU and coroner to Hackensack River west of Belleville, coordinates..." Dead body found on the eastern edge of the Hackensack River adjacent to Belleville, possible homicide. "Toro?" His radio sparked to life, "102 to possible 745." 

Ray's commanding officer, James Dewees, wanted him to meet at the possible murder scene. Unwilling to disobey orders, albeit unexpected, Ray put the car in drive and sped to the scene. 

"Toro, there you are," James said when Ray pulled up to the scene and stepped out of his patrol car. Ray opened his mouth to ask why he had been called down here but James got to him first. "Later, now follow me." 

Dewees led them through the police barrier and among the yet build up of a crowd of CSU technicians and officers to a deceased person laid on top of a blue sheet. The body looked waterlogged. There was a soaked cloth wrapped around its head, a mahogany color stained it. 

"The body was discovered this morning around ten-thirty by a man and his son about to go kayaking," Dewees started. "We think the body may have been in the water longer, but we don't have much yet. Forensics is still collecting evidence." 

"So, if I may ask now, why was I called?" Ray asked hesitantly. The officer barely had any experience handling homicide investigations other than seeing a dead body once when he was a middle schooler growing up in Jersey. They didn't exactly live in a safe, friendly area, but Ray was a stranger when it came to homicide. 

James sighed, his hands on his hips as his shoulders rose, "I thought it was time you got on your first murder case." Ray scratched his head at the bleak statement, disregarding his own confusion. "Okay, the truth is, I wanted your help. I want you on this with me."

"Okay," Ray nodded. Good enough answer, he guesses. They turn back towards the body, ready to begin investigating. The body belonged to a man, it appeared. Tall, probably around six feet, and heavier set. He was dressed in boxers and a plain t-shirt. 

No one in missing persons matched the description of him, and they have yet to ID him. A middle aged woman with a 'CSU' jacket crouched down beside the body. She carefully unwrapped the sweatshirt from his head and gave it to another technician to bag it. Ray grimaced, the skull appeared to be smashed in one place. 

"Looks like blunt force trauma," the woman said. 

"With what?"

"I don't know yet," she said. "But I can tell you it was large, looking at the diameter of the injury."

"What else can you tell us?" James asked. "Any sign of sexual assault?" 

"He was dead before he hit the water and there are no signs of sexual assault." 

"What's our next move?" Ray questioned. 

"Let's try and ID him--roll his prints, take a DNA sample, and check DMV records for a photo," James explained. "Hopefully he's in the system." 

\------

"We got a hit on our John Doe," James yelled as he entered the squad room. Only twenty four hours later. 

"They rolled his prints and turns out he has a record--assault two and a sexual misconduct class B misdemeanor. His name's Eddie Porter."

"Then he's definitely pissed some people off," Ray said. The victims of those crimes could be the suspect they're looking for if it was a revenge killing. 

"Yeah, think this guy has some enemies?" James asked and smirked. Now that they've identified their victim, they're one step closer to solving this. Next step is to interview family and friends. 

"Father's serving thirty in Trenton, mother is living in a nursing home in Newark, no siblings," James read from Eddie's file. "Ah--last known address, here in Belleville." He handed the file to Ray to look at. 

The last known address was provided by his parole officer. 458 Monroeville Road with a Linda Iero. _Wait_. 

"Hey, the address was changed just a few days ago," Ray noted. He didn't know what that meant, but it was a little odd, right?

"Well, let's talk to this Linda Iero--a girlfriend maybe?" Ray nodded, that was probable. He wondered how he could have gotten a girlfriend with a record of sexual assault. It's possible Linda didn't know about the kind of man she was dating. 

\------

Detective James Dewees and officer Ray Toro walked up the steps of the one story house believed to be where Eddie last lived. James tapped on the dark turquoise painted wooden door while Ray observed the outside of the house. There were cardboard boxes and other junk at the end of the driveway. He leaned over to appear into a window, seeing only a couch, box TV, and more boxes stacked on top of each other. 

"I think they just moved here," Ray whispered. James nodded and the door opened. 

A pale olive-skinned woman appeared behind the door. The door ajar as the woman hesitantly poked her head out. "May I help you?" She asked quietly. 

"Are you Linda Iero?" James asked as they flashed their badges. "We're the police."

The woman flinched then proceeded to nod. She had an odd expression on her face, caution residing more deeply in her features. "Yes, I'm Linda Iero..."

"Do you know Eddie Porter?" James asked first. 

Linda exhaled shakily, "yes. Why?"

"We're so sorry to inform you, Miss Iero," Ray began, stumbling when he said her name. "Eddie was found dead yesterday morning," he said gently. Ray had accompanied another officer before to relay the news of a passing before, but it didn't become easier the second time around, and it was never quite like this. 

Linda grimaced, "oh."

James snuck a glance to Ray. "May we come in and ask you a few questions?"

"S-sure, of course," she said and opened the door, inviting the officers into her home. "Excuse the mess, we just moved here." 

"That's fine," Ray reassured and stepped inside. James gave him a look that said something's off.

The officers took a seat at the round dinning room table. Linda sat across from them after bringing the two cups of freshly brewed coffee. 

"How do you know Eddie?" James first asked. 

"He was my boyfriend," Linda answered simply. 

"Was he home the day before yesterday?"

"Uh, he-he left actually," Linda stuttered. "He left us a few days ago."

"Who's 'us?'" 

"My son, Frank, and I. Frank's not Eddie's, we've only been together a few years. We weren't a perfect family, but we cared for each other," her voice wavered at the end. Linda broke down in tears and got up from the table to grab a tissue. "Oh Frankie," she whispered, leaning against the sink.

"Do you know where Eddie might have gone when he left?" Ray asked gently. 

Linda shrugged, "he never stayed in one place, except when we were together. I thought he had changed. He-I knew about his past, but he was different, he changed--" Linda exhaled loudly and held her head in her hands. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm making any sense. It's ju-just a lot to take in." 

"No, it's okay, Miss Iero," Ray said. "I can't imagine what you're going through." Ray looked beside him to James, "uh-um, that's all for now--we--again we're truly sorry for your loss."

James and Ray stood up from the table. "We'll be touch," James said. Linda mumbled an okay and thank you as they left. The tension fell when the two exited the house and into the fresh air outside. 

"Does she seem a little odd to you?" James asked Ray. 

"Something _was_ off with her, but then again, people grieve differently," Ray shook his head. 

"She didn't seem even shocked to hear that her boyfriend died. _And_ he just so happened to leave them a few days earlier? Why? Why go to the trouble to change your address with your parole officer to only leave the next day without notice? It doesn't make sense."

Ray nodded, opening the passenger car door, "let's look into Linda's past. Maybe there's something there. Oh! We can interview old neighbors and friends, learn more about the happy couple?" 

"Not so happy anymore, let's go," James agreed and put the car into drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> third chapter!1!1! I'm so sorry it's taken so long. I got major writer's block for this story but I'm trying to push through it. I'm thinking about updating this again soon for a continuation of what happened in this chapter.
> 
> new characters I didn't plan for have arrived. It worked out though--got me out of this stump for a little while. I love the police jargon I used. I did some research on NJ police codes, too. 
> 
> hopefully you are still there and willing to read !! :0
> 
> \- paige


	4. "Trust Me"

The next day Frank acted as if it never happened. He carried on unpacking his room and then the rest of the house. It unnerved Linda; how could Frank act like everything was normal?

"Frank, stop," Linda said, grabbing Frank's hands to stop him from opening another cardboard box. "How can you act like everything is normal? We did a horrible thing--"

"No, Mom,  _you_  did a horrible thing. I was just cleaning up your mess," Frank frowned and swatted his mother's hands away.

"How could you say that? I-I'm sorry, oh God--" Linda whimpered. She continued blabbering and crying into her hands at how horrible she was and what a mistake she made. Frank sighed, taking his mother's hands into his.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Look, everything is going to be fine," Frank reassured her. Linda began to protest, asking how and what about the police. Frank sat the two of them down on the dark brown couch.

"Okay, if the police come, we say Eddie left us when we got here. He-he never stayed in one place, he drank, he would leave for days without saying a word, and we don't know where he went," Frank said. The teenager bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. "Mom, Eddie was a bad man. We have nothing to worry about. Just stay calm and forget it ever happened, okay?"

Eddie was a bad man; he hurt Linda and Frank, he lied and was always drunk. His misery infected their lives until they blurred together, never knowing the cause of which pain or whose it is. But she did an equally bad thing. Linda wasn't sure she could pretend that it never happened because her conscious would never let her.

"Okay," Linda said, her voice void of emotion. She held her son's hands for a moment longer. "What's going to happen to us? What now?"

"We move on with our lives," Frank stated. He was so strong, Linda thought. So brave, her son. It was times like these she wished Frank, her deceased husband, was there. She hoped he wasn't watching them right then.

Frank got up from the couch and went into his mother's room. To ensure they had nothing to do with Eddie's death, they have to make sure there isn't any evidence left. Frank washed the lamp thoroughly again, and gathered Eddie's belongings into a pile (Linda got rid of the bloody carpet stain already). He had to make it look like Eddie really did leave. Only he didn't know where to put his things.

After debating for some time, Frank decided he was going to bring Eddie's clothes and other belongings to a homeless shelter or to the homeless on the street. Frank told Linda and they got ready to head into the city. They drove into Newark and scattered Eddie's belongings between shelters and random homeless people.

"You think this will work?" Frank asked.

"I think so," Linda nodded. "The police can't really link all these clothes to Eddie, right?"

Frank nodded, thinking about her rhetorical question. He hoped it was rhetorical at least, since he really didn't know if the police could do that.

Now with Eddie's things gone,  _and the evidence_ , they can put this all behind them and act like it never happened. No more constant reminders. Linda refused to let this ruin their new start or haunt her.

They're safe from the police, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is short but I didn't want to include it in the previous chapter bc I thought it'd make it confusing?
> 
> I'll be introducing Gerard soon! idk when the next update will be so bare with me
> 
> \- Paige :)

**Author's Note:**

> the first chapter is done!!! give me motivation to continue this series by voting or liking and commenting, thank you! I hope you like it. If you've watched murder house or bates motel, you might find some similarities.
> 
> \- Paige


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